


The Wrong Words

by Lavendermagik



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendermagik/pseuds/Lavendermagik
Summary: Sometimes Dean has a hard time finding the right words.  Good thing you're pretty patient when it comes to him.





	The Wrong Words

**Author's Note:**

> Preface: Okay, I admit it, I came in on this fandom late - as in, I'm still in season four. So for the sake of canon compliance, we're going to call this Dean beginning-of-the-series Dean, back when it was all monster of the week and the yellow-eyed demon who still didn't have a name, and Dean couldn't come up with a comeback to save his life.

Dean seemed distracted. Which would have been fine if you hadn’t both been wielding shotguns full of rock salt in hopes of fending off an angry spirit until Sam could find whatever object it was clinging to. You really didn’t want to be thrown out a window because your partner was daydreaming. However, the one time you’d even attempted to broach the subject he’d bit back an, “I’m fine,” and you’d dropped it. And still somehow Dean was taking point, leaving you to follow a step or two behind, trying to watch your six as well as keep your eyes on him and his oddly absent expression.

“Hey, in here,” Dean indicated a door he’d just opened, and you ducked in after him without question. You’d barely passed him before he yanked the door shut and you became enveloped in darkness. You blinked rapidly, both from confusion and trying to adjust to the lack of light. You waited for something to happen or for Dean to offer an explanation, but instead you found yourself standing silently in what you deduced was a closet.

“Uh…” you started quietly in case he’d soused out some danger you’d missed, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

You paused, gave him another moment or two to fill you in. “We’re in a closet.”

“Yeah.”

You waited. He waited.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we in a closet?”

He made a noise like he was about to say something, and then cleared his throat without saying anything at all.

“ _Dean_ ,” you hissed with some insistence.

“I need to talk to you, okay?”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Okay.”

The whole situation was so odd you started measuring the spans of silence by heartbeats.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Are you gonna-”

“Yeah, just…” he cut you off and then stopped completely. That you couldn’t see him just made everything worse.

“Look, do we need to do this now? We’re kinda in the middle of a hunt.”

“Sam can take care of it.”

“What… what do you mean _Sam can take care of it_?” Since when did Dean leave a hunt to Sam?

“It’ll be fine.”

“Dean, what is going on?”

He made a harsh noise of frustration in the back of his throat. A shuffling sound indicated he was either fidgeting or pacing (as much as one could pace in a small dark room). “I have… I have… a problem.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“A problem?”

“Ah, no, not really.”

One. Two.

“You don’t have a problem?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s kind of a problem but… not.”

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Is it, like… a guy problem?”

“What? No! Why would I need to talk to you about a guy problem?”

“I don’t know – maybe you were too embarrassed to talk to Sam about it.”

“Trust me – if I’m not talking to Sam about it, I’m definitely not talking to you about it.”

“That’s really unsafe. Do you need to go to a doctor?”

“No! No, I don’t- Why are we even talking about this?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what we’re talking about!”

“Urgh, why did Sammy think I could do this?”

Huh?

One. Two.

“You know what?” Dean continued unprompted. “Just forget about all of that, okay? Forget I said anything.”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t say anything.”

“Right. Good.”

What?

One. Two.

The doorknob rattled. Then rattled harder.

“Uh…”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you lock us in a closet?”

One. Two. Three.

“ _Dean_ -”

“Maybe a little.”

“ _A little_?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Oh, good, that’ll magically open the door.”

“Hey, I just wanted some privacy!”

“Privacy from what? The only other thing in this building is the spirit we’re supposed to be snuffing out. Which is going to be awfully hard now.”

“I told you Sam’ll take care of it.”

“Which is something else I still don’t get. Usually you’d be beside yourself trying to get to him, but for some reason you’re willing to leave him on his own so we could have a private chat in a closet. And I still have no idea what it was about in the first place.”

“It’s…” Another frustrated noise. “I have… this… thing.”

Each word sounded like it was forced from his chest through a wind tunnel.

“The problem.”

“No, forget about that. It’s just… a thing.”

“A thing.”

One. Two. Three.

“Things.”

One. Two.

“Things?”

“Yeah.”

“Like more than one? Plural?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“Are these things something you need checked out by a doctor?”

“No! Geez, lady, would you let that go?”

“I would if I actually knew what you were talking about.”

“I’m tryin’ to tell you!”

“Are you sure?”

One. Two. Three. Four.

“De-”

“They’re feelings.”

You swallowed a surprised snort of laughter into a cough.

One.

This was unexpected.

Two.

To say the least.

Three.

So Dean wanted to have a heart to heart, huh?

Four.

You knew he was secretly squishy on the inside.

Five.

Wonder what feelings he’s having that’s got him so worked up?

Si-

“For you.”  
x.

Seven.

“They’re feelings for you.”

Eight.

“I have feelings for you.”

Nine. Ten.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

One. Two. Three.

“So…” he prompted.

“Huh?”

“Kinda waiting to hear what you think about that.”

“Oh. Uh…”

One. Two. Three. Four.

“I don’t know.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean… I hadn’t really thought about it. You know – having feelings. I didn’t know you had feelings.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“I thought I was bein’ obvious. Even Sammy picked up on it.”

“He knew?”

“He kept bugging me to tell you.”

“Huh. Well, my mom always said I wouldn’t notice that a boy liked me even if he painted it all over his body and did an interpretive dance right in front of me.”

One. Two. Three.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to do that.”

“Please don’t.”

He sort of sniffed. “So what now?”

One. Two.

“I should probably figure out how I feel, right?”

Three. Four.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Five. Six. Seven.

“Well…”

Eight.

“I know I like hunting with you.”

“Good, considering you’ve been doin’ it for so long.”

“I know I like your relationship with Sam.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just… I like watching you two together. How you get along, how you fight, how much you love each other in your macho, manly way. It makes me, I dunno, happy, I guess.”

“All right, that’s fair.”

“I know I like seeing you happy.” Your voice was softer now, like you were sharing a secret. “I like when we finish a hunt and haven’t found another one yet, and just for a little while you’re in this between place where we’re safe and you can relax even a bit. I like watching you see Sam do something you’re proud of. I really like watching you see me doing something you’re proud of.”

“I’m proud of you a lot.”

“I know I like that you’re a good man. Don’t scoff at me – you are.”

“Then I like that you think that, even if you’re obviously blinded by my charm and dashing good looks.”

One. Two. Three.

“You are obviously very attractive.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Shut up. You know you’re a prime piece of real estate.”

“If you say, ‘and I’m gonna get me some land,’ I will kick down this door right now.”

“Not a bad idea, except it’ll lead the spirit right to us.”

“Screw the spirit.”

“If it finds us like this we’re going to be the ones screwed.”

“So what else do you know?”

One. Two.

“I like… that you have feelings for me. And I think…”

Three. Four.

“…that I have feelings for you, too.”

Five. Six.

“Good feelings?” His voice sounded closer.

Seven.

“Really good feelings.”

You heard a noise right in front of you. Felt breath on your face, the heat radiating from his body. Smelled the sweat and gunpowder and smoke and motel soap that seemed to cling to his skin at all times.

Eight nine teneleventwelve-

The abruptly loud ringing of his cell phone shattered the building tension. He stepped back and yanked the interruption from his pocket. “What?”

“Nice to hear your voice, too.” Sam’s sarcasm was muffled and tinny through the tiny speaker. “I’m still alive, in case you were wondering. Went ahead and dusted the spirit. All by myself, thank you very much.”

“What, you want a gold star?”

You could see Dean’s irritated face cast in shadows from the phone’s lit screen. He glanced at you quickly, and then just as quickly looked away again.

“Where are you guys?”

“Nowhere. We’ll meet you back at the car in a minute.”

“Dean-” Sam was cut off by Dean’s thumb jamming down on the end call button. The light lasted a moment or two longer before fading, leaving you with the after image flashing over your retinas and no clear view of Dean’s expression.

One. Two.

“So no more spirit?”

Three. Four.

“Yeah.”

Five. Six.

“Yay?” you cheered uncertainly.

Seven. Eight.

“Guess we’re not worried about attracting attention anymore.”

Nine. Ten.

“Guess not.”

Eleven.

“Good.”

A sharp crack rang out and the room was flooded with light. You raised your arm to block the sudden onslaught, and were treated to the slightly blurry vision of Dean surrounded by something like a glow as he turned back to you.

Hesitantly, he held out a hand. “Ready?”

One.

You grabbed on tightly and grinned at him. “Oh yeah.”


End file.
